


Dangerous Addictions

by Tangerine



Series: Gone Before Sunrise/Dangerous Addictions [2]
Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Angst, M/M, POV First Person, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-09-27
Updated: 2000-09-27
Packaged: 2019-02-27 13:01:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13248786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tangerine/pseuds/Tangerine
Summary: Originally written in 2000.





	Dangerous Addictions

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written in 2000.

I had no reason to be standing where I stood, waiting for who I was, wanting what I needed. I had searched a damn long time for words that would make what I was doing better, to make it less twisted that it actually was, but they weren't there. There was no excuse for this. 

I was just a sick fuck in desperate need of attention. 

It took me nine days to come to this conclusion, and once I did things seemed to brighten up a bit. When Lorna showed up with her new boyfriend, in all his brown-haired-with-glasses glory, I was only able to grin a bit and pretend I didn't want to hurt them both for sitting there, on my fucking chesterfield, holding hands. Like, _fuck_ , Lorna, did you ever have a brain? 

I offered Lorna and her boy wonder tea; they declined. I offered them coffee; they said, no, he had to be up early and she got jittery when she drank the stuff after nine. I offered them a nice glass of arsenic, and Lorna laughed uncomfortably because I wasn't kidding. 

So I told her, in a nice, subdued scream to get the fuck out of my house, and I slammed that fucking door behind her. I threw on my coat, jammed the zipper, tore the fucking thing from my shoulders and walked to hell. I wanted a little warmth after that experience, and I knew exactly where I was going, even if I couldn't find the hows and the whys of it. 

I was just a sick fuck in desperate need of attention. 

It was nice to be honest with myself for once. I didn't need to hide from the truth, to say to my pretty-boy leader-self that no, no, I wasn't being selfish or childish or reckless, I was just finally letting go a bit, saving myself from slashing my wrists in the tub at some hour between dusk and dawn. No, self, I'm going to get fucked, to be fucked or to fuck, I didn't really give a damn either way, I just wanted to be grounded, to take a little sanity into my head, and fuck yeah, it was selfish as hell, but that was the point. 

So why did I conclude I was obviously out of my mind when I saw him round the corner, hands full of individually packed boxes of authentic Chinese food? The answer was easy: if it was anybody but him, it'd be a completely different story, but it was him and me, me and Warren Worthington the Third. 

"Alex," Warren said, quite clearly surprised that I was standing in his hall, hands tucked deep into my pockets, muttering to myself. I smiled automatically, wondering just how psychotic I looked, but Warren merely nodded and opened the door to his loft. "After you." 

I entered inside and immediately sat down on the couch, not saying anything, just sitting there and kicking off my shoes. Warren went into the kitchen and came out with a beer, expensive shit, putting it into my hands, and I drank from that bottle without tasting, just wanting to be lost again. 

"I hope you like Chinese. I wasn't expecting company, at least not for awhile, but there's more than enough. I think it tastes even better after sitting in my fridge for a week," Warren said from the kitchen, making noise, and I nodded to the wall, trusting him to feel the shift of wind against his face. "Utensils or chopsticks, Alex?" 

"Doesn't matter," I mumbled, lips around the head of the bottle, forgetting how to drink. Looking at the various photographs on the wall, I couldn't understand why anybody ever thought Warren was straight. They were all men, lithe and athletic, genitals pushed between their legs and all body-hair stricken from the smooth flesh. It hit me. "Is that you?" 

Warren stuck his head out the kitchen, laughing to himself. "Yes. Funny, isn't it? The man who took those photographs knew about my wings and still insisted on it, erasing any trace of them from the pictures. Up until this morning, I had a row of Matisse prints, but they arrived in the mail today, so you know me, eternal narcissus, up they went. How did you know?" 

"The stomach looked familiar." 

Warren laughed again, shaking his head. "You surprise me, Alex. Pleasantly, I assure you." Warren came out of the kitchen, dropping a couple little boxes on the coffee table and heading back to collect the rest. Pressing chopsticks in my empty hand, Warren sat down on the floor and shrugged off his shirt, letting the wings free from his back. "Dig in." 

I leaned over to look into the cartons, putting a plate on my lap as I began to pick through the assortment. Soon, my plate was full, and as I reached for the chicken balls, Warren did the same, our chopsticks hitting each other. 

"You sure you want those balls, Alex?" Warren asked, light humour painting his blue eyes, and I nodded dumbly, sensing the metaphor and clinging to it. Warren plucked two pieces of chicken onto his plate and sat back. "I take it you met the other man?" 

I nodded, stuffing noddles into my mouth. 

"Was he good-looking?" 

I shrugged, still munching without words. 

Warren sighed deeply, shaking his head as he dipped a chicken ball into a small puddle of sauce. "Alex, I hate to be trite, but this might be the only consolation you'll get from this whole mess. Now, I ask you again, was he good-looking?" 

"Not really," I said weakly. 

"That's the spirit," Warren replied, lifting his chopsticks in cheers before returning to his food, letting the noise simmer into silence. I finished first and sat back, full, and Warren stood up, taking my plate and his to the sink. When Warren came back, he sat beside me on the couch, eyes on my face. "I'm a dangerous addiction, Alex. I need you to understand that you won't get anything more from me than physical affection and, perhaps, friendship." 

"I understand," I replied quietly, grasping my hands tightly together. 

"So what do you want, Alex? What do you want me to do? Who do you want me to become?" Warren shifted, finger raising to tuck my hair behind my ears, whispering against my cheek, breath hot like fire. "I can be the attentive lover or the passive doll, Alex, just tell me who you need, and I will be that man for you." 

"Can you be both?" 

Warren smiled, fingers already unbuttoning my shirt and sliding under the thin fabric to touch my chest. "I can be." 

I nodded and let my head fall back, rolling across the plains of my shoulders, and Warren leaned closer, tongue pressing against my chest, sucking a nipple between his lips. Tugging the shirt off my shoulders, his mouth moved down my belly, circling the ripples of muscle. 

Already breathing deeply, I put my hand against his back and pushed him away, catching the confusion before erasing it from his eyes, easing him back against the couch, careful of the wings. Warren gasped slightly when I knelt between his legs, hands on either thigh and slowly climbing the muscled limbs before meeting at the top of his jeans. Unhooking his pants, I eased down the zipper then moved to tug them off his hips, grateful when he lifted his pelvis to help the process. 

Nine days ago, Warren had fucked me senseless, took control, been everything I needed him to be. Now, nine days later, what I needed had changed. I needed to be the one in control, the one seducing, the one who turned the world around. 

The skin of his penis was soft, and I took it in my hand, thumb running along the sensitive underside and testing his reaction. A soft hiss escaped his lips, and I stroked again, harder this time, getting a stronger response, receiving a whispered curse for my curious hand. Smiling against his thigh, I gently cupped his balls between curved fingers. 

"Are you done?" Warren asked with a smirk, fingers pressed to his head as he tried to be the calm, collected one, and I shook my head, lowering my tongue to brush every so slightly against his testicles, inciting a sharp gasp of surprise. That shut him up. 

I lowered my mouth and sucked the head of his dick between my lips, tasting the salty precum hesitantly, contemplating the flavour. I wouldn't say it was the greatest thing to grace my tongue, but it wasn't wholly unpleasant either. Determined to do this, I followed the vein on the underside of his cock with my tongue, tracing the ridged length before taking the tip into my mouth again, sucking strongly. Warren's hips bucked, and I swallowed him into my throat, gagging until I was able to fall into the rhythm. I'm not sure what was turning me on more, the fact that this was another man's dick in my mouth or that Warren came within a minute, shooting hot jets of semen into my stomach. 

Giving him no chance to say one thing or the other, I tore his pants from his legs. Warren raised an eyebrow, ready to question, but I was determined now to get what I wanted, so I pulled him to his bedroom, perfectly clear about what I needed. Once inside, I stripped quickly and stopped, finally, to look at him. Wholly confused, Warren didn't say a single word. 

Urgently, I pressed a bruising kiss to his mouth, feeling him open below me. I sucked on his lower lip, chewing it lightly between my teeth before moving to suck his tongue into my mouth, drinking as much of him into my body as I could. His hands were on my ass, moving in circles, and my fingers, equally greedy for flesh, buried in the base of his wings, massaging the incredible knots of muscle, pulling him flush against my chest. 

"I want to fuck you," I muttered, mouth against his throat, feeling the swallow of his answer, the deep moan he gave in response to my plea. Latching my lips around his left nipple, I sucked until his knees buckled, fingers grabbing at my back before finally giving up and falling to the bed. 

Legs hanging over the bed and on the floor, Warren twisted to his stomach, attempting to crawl onto the mattress, but I was already on my knees, behind him and gripping his hips. If I was going to do this, I was going to do this right. I'd been waiting my entire life to fuck a man; I was going to cram as much into this moment as I could. 

Warren gasped a sharp breath when I licked the cleft of his ass, fingers pressed into the round swell of his cheeks. Determined to be the best fuck he ever had, I tongued the ring of muscle, sucking and licking, taking every roll of his hips as a plea to go forward. Right there, between his legs, I fucked him with my tongue, so fucking determined to prove myself. 

"Alex," Warren warned, gripping the blankets, "please." 

Please. Warren Worthington the Third was begging me, and I grinned to myself, all too willing to give into the muttered request. Looking in that same drawer from nine days ago, I got the tube of lubricant and opened it, drizzling a line between his ass, massaging it into the flesh with my thumbs. The next blob I squeezed directly onto his anus, one finger immediately disappearing into the tight hole. My other hand got a condom, and I ripped it open with my teeth, finger-fucking Warren all the while, making him scream with pleasure. 

I finally got the condom on and I raised slightly on my legs, withdrawing my fingers and replacing them with my cock, thrusting in deep and fast. Warren arched his back and pushed back until my balls rested against his, enveloped in this tight, hot body and seeing sparks of blinding fire behind my eyes. 

Then I started moving, drawing back until I was almost out then plunging back into that sweet hold, fucking Warren like he deserved to be fucked, with passion and fire and blinding hot desire. I didn't love him, God, I was fucking sure I still hated him, but it didn't matter, nothing mattered but this, our bodies together, moving in synch as we raced for release. 

And the explosion came quickly, Warren first as he splattered my feet with his surrender, face buried in the blankets to mask the screams that erupted from his lips. I tumbled soon after, deep inside his body as I stiffened and came with a wail, mouth pressed against his neck, marking him as I finally succumbed to the needs of my body. 

I left him lying there, stunned beyond speaking, and got dressed quickly, already ashamed of myself. With shaking hands, I buttoned up my shirt and tucked it into my jeans, sparing one last look at him before running from his room. 

I slammed the door, disgusted with myself, racing back to the apartment Scott had found for me. Scott, my brother, God, what would he say? What would he do if he knew? What the fuck would Scott think if he found out I had such a dangerous addiction? 

Would Scott understand that I was just a sick fuck in desperate need of attention?


End file.
